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[Who's leaving fuzzy anvils on his doorstep? That's certainly what it feels like hefting the surprise delivery inside before he unwraps the blanket and sees what's hiding within its cottony confines. Lord, if people keep gifting him medical texts, he's going to need to attach a whole new room to his flat to fit his library.
A blanket and textbooks, interesting combination. Ah, and there's a card. Time to find out who his secret admirer is...
... Oh. Well then. Now that's a name he knows well--and is the last one he expected to see on a holiday card. Funnily enough, Dorian seems to have forgotten to supply earplugs for this abject cry for attention, or whatever might have prompted a surprise gift. Why quit while he's ahead, really? Distance is good and he's good at distance. Stick to your strengths, you know. That sounds like a plan. How about he does that and just... quietly distances himself from all of this weird generosity and pretend he never read this note... Yeah, let's do that...
Merry Christmas, goodbye.]
and some yet live, treading the thorny road - Post a comment
which leads, through toil and hate, to fame’s serene abode